


The Last Letter

by Ursa888



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6649822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursa888/pseuds/Ursa888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy receives a letter from Thomas that brings him back to Downton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thomas' letter

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fanfic, so hopefully it's ok. I'd love to get better at writing, so feedback is always welcome. Later chapters will be longer. Hope you enjoy!

Jimmy folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. He stared at the off-white square in his hands turning it over thinking about what he had just read. It was a letter from Thomas. In their final conversation before Jimmy had left Downton, which felt like ages ago, Thomas had asked him to write and he said he would. At first they wrote with fair frequency, but the time between each letter was longer and the length of them shorter. Jimmy hadn’t heard from Thomas in quite some time now. He had almost thought that maybe Thomas had decided to forget about him when he received this letter. 

It was short. That wasn’t unusual. Thomas never shared much news with what was going on at the Abbey with Jimmy, nor much personal news about himself. But Jimmy was disturbed by the final sentence. “You may not hear from me again. –T” His eyebrows scrunched up and his lips pursed in confusion, contorting his smooth skin into a labyrinth of wrinkles. It had bothered Jimmy when he had speculated that Thomas might have stopped writing to him, but now that Thomas had implied that he was ceasing contact, Jimmy was worried and upset, but he didn’t want to admit that to himself. He and Thomas had grown so close while they had been working together. It hadn’t always been so peachy between them, but they had still become good friends before Jimmy’s unfortunate departure. Why did it seem like Thomas had been withdrawing these past few months? Jimmy wondered if he should make a trip to the Abbey. No, that seemed extravagant. And useless. He didn’t see a reason to take all that time and spend the money to get no more information about what was going on with Thomas than what he was getting in his letters. He knew Thomas. If Thomas wasn’t sharing something in his letters, it really wasn’t that likely that he was going to change his tune if Jimmy waltzed in to find out. 

All of these thoughts rumbled around in the back of Jimmy’s mind the rest of the day. The words, “You may not hear from me again,” played over in his mind. At first it was just in his mind’s voice, but then it transformed into the quiet whisper of Thomas. Every time he thought the words, the volume escalated until it was so loud and clear that Thomas could’ve been standing behind Jimmy speaking directly into his ear. He couldn’t understand why this was bothering him so much. It was true that he and Thomas had been good friends, but when people are separated for a while they tend to grow apart, right? This waning of friendship was normal; Jimmy tried to convince himself. So why couldn’t he get Thomas off his mind? The taste of blood took his attention away from his thoughts. Jimmy realized he had been chewing on his lip, not sure for how long, or when he had picked up the habit, but either way he had bit right through the skin. This was madness and he couldn’t take it. Jimmy made up his mind. Tomorrow he was going to Downton, he would find Thomas, and find out what the hell was going on so the voice that was now booming in his brain saying “You may not hear from me again” could stop.


	2. Back at Downton

Thomas was lying unconscious in his bed. The sunlight from the window was staring down onto him, making his pale skin glow. Not too long ago, Baxter and Andy had wrestled his limp body into some dry clothes and put him to rest. The two of them took turns staying with Thomas, waiting for him to wake up. So far he lay nearly motionless, the gentle rise and fall of his chest the only movement he made. 

Mrs. Hughes was downstairs going about her daily duties when there was a knock at the back door. She had no idea who it was as they weren’t expecting anyone that afternoon. Since no one else was around she went to answer it. In her singsong voice she said, “I’m coming, just a moment,” as she shuffled towards the door. When she opened the door to reveal the unexpected visitor her mouth dropped slightly open and her eyes widened in disbelief. If Jimmy hadn’t been so concerned he may have snickered at the ridiculous expression on Mrs. Hughes face. 

“Oh my God,” she stated slowly, shaking her head lightly, searching Jimmy’s face. She hadn’t seen Jimmy since he had left, and while not really anticipating his arrival, there was growing suspicion in the back of her mind that this was not a coincidence. However, she was mistaken thinking Jimmy knew more than he did. Not understanding her reaction, he thought she might be annoyed at his being there. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt you Mrs. Hughes, I know you’re very busy,” he said respectfully, thinking he needed to persuade Mrs. Hughes to let him in, “I was just wondering if Thomas was around and if I might be able to speak with him for a moment?” his voice faltered at he saw the pitying, apologetic expression that had taken up residence on Mrs. Hughes’ face. 

“What’s wrong?” he blurted, starting to feel as though his concerns were being confirmed, but what concerns he wasn’t sure. 

“James,” she started, reluctant to share with Jimmy the horrific news, but knowing she had to, “I’m afraid you’re not expecting to find what you will see,” watching distress take over Jimmy’s face. 

“What do you mean? What’s happened?” Jimmy’s voice broke, starting to panic. He pushed inside the entrance, fixedly staring at Mrs. Hughes desperate for her to either go on and spit it out or allow him to see Thomas already. What was going on with Thomas? He thought he was going to lose it. He tried to remind himself to breath. 

“ Come with me, James,” Mrs. Hughes turned and walked toward the staircase, and Jimmy quickly followed. The blood was racing through every vein in his body, making him feel like he might burst. In the short time it took them to get to the stairs, Jimmy was already out of breath. Starting their journey up, he had almost forgotten the long trek it was to get to the attics, and with this much anticipation for whatever Mrs. Hughes wasn’t telling him, it made the staircase that much longer. 

When they finally reached the attics, Mrs. Hughes spun around and looked at Jimmy. She hesitated for a moment, collecting her thoughts. 

“Mr. Barrow hasn’t been well, I’m sorry to say it. It is still quite a shock, since we only found him earlier today.” Jimmy wanted to ask what she meant by that, not wanting to believe the situation that she seemed to be implying. “I’ll let you into his room,” she said, with a sympathetic, weak smile. 

Jimmy felt sick. He thought he might vomit. He began to follow Mrs. Hughes down the hallway, but as he started to move he felt how shaky his legs were. He had to concentrate to keep his balance. His vision was blurry and it felt like his brain was on a potter’s wheel spinning around in his head, pounding against the walls of his skull. When they had finally reached Thomas’ room, Mrs. Hughes gently turned the knob and slowly swung the door open. Jimmy’s heart plummeted so hard that it hurt his chest. 

He gazed at Thomas, his pale face contrasting so sharply with his dark hair, the light from the window illuminating his body. The white bandages somehow blending into and standing out from Thomas’ skin at the same time. This image reminded Jimmy of Thomas after the fair, but this was worse. Much, much worse. While not physically scratched and beaten like before, Thomas had an eerie, angelic quality to him that sent shivers down Jimmy’s spine. He didn’t remember walking into the room or seeing Mrs. Hughes motion to Baxter to leave, but he was standing by Thomas’ bed looking down at him. Thankfully, there was a chair there that he could collapse into just as his legs were finally about to give in. He felt so physically exhausted, as if he had just run a marathon, but his mind was on fire, thoughts swirled up and obscured in a cloud of nebulous smoke. He just stared at Thomas, tears welling in his eyes. 

“He hasn’t woken yet,” Mrs. Hughes voice sounded abnormally loud as it startled Jimmy out of his trance. He just looked at her, barely acknowledging that she had said anything before the door was shut and she was gone.


	3. Purgatory

Resting his elbows on his thighs, Jimmy sank his face into his hands. He finally let the tears that hung on the edge of his eyes fall. He stayed hunched over like this for a few minutes, not ready to look at Thomas again. It was impossible for Jimmy to think clearly as an earthquake took place within his brain. _Is this really happening? This can’t be real. The Thomas I knew would never do this._ Jimmy couldn’t comprehend how this was happening, but he knew that it was happening, that it was horrible, and that he would have to face the destruction that was the aftermath.

Eventually, Jimmy peeled his face out of his trembling hands and looked at the still man lying on the bed.

“Why did you do this? Why were you so unhappy?” he asked the unconscious man. His voice barely sounded like his own. It was rough and full of sadness and desperation, unlike his usual joking and confident tone. His brain buzzed frantically, attempting to answer his own questions. Thomas hadn’t given much information in his last few letters that would give Jimmy any clue as to why Thomas had done this. _You may not hear from me again_ , Thomas’ voice said again for the thousandth time. _Well, you didn’t tell me why, but I guess in your own way you did tell me that this is what you were planning_. At that moment, it felt like all the blood had cascaded down his veins and pooled in his feet, making him dizzy. Jimmy realized that Thomas’ letter signified considerable premeditation, meaning that Thomas must have spent plenty of time thinking about this, planning this, and hating his life. It pained Jimmy immensely to think of his friend, Thomas, trudging through a swamp of misery, alone.

“I should’ve written you more. I should’ve come to visit you when I could. I’m sorry, Thomas,” Jimmy said, his voice shaking. Guilt began to sting his every nerve ending, sending subtle waves of pain through his body. Every so often, in his letters, Thomas had asked Jimmy if they could meet sometime. Jimmy usually said something ambiguous like, “sure, sounds nice” or just not acknowledge the request at all. Thinking back, Jimmy couldn’t explain to himself why he had blown Thomas off time and time again, but he had, and that made this whole situation all the more awful. His shoulders, legs, stomach, and heart tightened as if preparing to take a blow. Jimmy thought if only he had been a better friend, maybe he could’ve prevented this.

“I know you didn’t have many friends. At least not here or anyone I knew of.” Jimmy drew in a large breath, staring at Thomas’ face. “But I was your friend,” his voice filling up with regret, “and I feel like I’ve let you down.” Jimmy buried his face in his hands again, too ashamed to look at Thomas. _This is your fault. You’re so reckless and uncaring, who else did he have to talk to, what other friend did he have to help him, and you couldn’t use one of your bloody days off to come see him when he needed you_ , Jimmy thought to himself. His breathing was heavy as he filled with self-loathing.

“I’m sorry that I ruined everything. I was stupid. I wasn’t thinking that night,” he said with anger creeping into his voice. “I didn’t plan on being sacked. But I was.” Jimmy let out a sigh before continuing. He thought about how different things could’ve been, how different things would be now if only he had been able to stay at Downton. He didn’t believe Thomas would be in this situation right now if he had been there all along. In fact, Jimmy was quite convinced they’d both be a lot happier. But, nevertheless, he hadn’t been there.

“I’m sorry I had to leave you. I’d take orders from Carson again if that meant we could still sit around in the servant’s hall playing cards or something.” His tone sounded as if he was trying to communicate a more profound message. Mentioning the good times they had had together made Jimmy nostalgic, which was unusual for him, but he let the memories swim around in his mind for a moment. He remembered Thomas telling him about clocks; _Thomas is funny about clocks, his notions_ … Jimmy grinned at the memory. Even though he didn’t share Thomas’ enthusiasm for clocks, he loved hearing Thomas talk about something he so enjoyed and cared about. He wondered what Thomas would sound like talking about him.

The grin he wore soon faded as a series of sensations flashed through his mind. The pressure of Thomas’ hand on his shoulder, the warmth of Thomas’ lips against his own, the strained burning of his throat as he screamed at Thomas to get out, the wobbliness of his body and mind at the fair, the feeling of aggressive hands on him, and then the feeling of being whisked away, the pounding of his feet against the floor walking to Thomas’ room, and finally the rough texture of a newspaper in his hands. Jimmy gasped. He must have stopped breathing while he felt his way through memories. He took a few gulps of air, trying to collect himself.

Having recovered his breath, he let the memories flow again. First a flash of Thomas’ appreciative and knowing smirk in response to something Jimmy said, then his graceful hands packing items into a trunk before going to America, the way a cigarette would hang precariously from his mouth, the mirth that colored his cheeks only for Jimmy, the look of disappointment and worry drawn into his red lips as Jimmy turned to go to Lady Anstruther, and finally sadness and something else washing over the irises of those striking eyes the very last time Jimmy saw Thomas.

Jimmy was deep in the archives of his thoughts and memories, staring at the floor, his eyes following the lines of the wood grain. He hadn’t ever really taken the time to reflect on the past. He absentmindedly reached out and ran his fingers on the crisp linen of the side of the bed. At first he watched his fingers, but then he looked over to Thomas’ face, scrutinizing it carefully as if he was hoping to glean information from Thomas’ many contours. He stared for a while, taking in every detail, like how the sunshine made the tips of Thomas’ eyelashes twinkle like the leaves of a tree on a sunny day. As if having accepted defeat at trying to read Thomas’ sleeping face, Jimmy said quietly,

“I just hope that nothing I did ever caused you pain.” Jimmy knew this wasn’t true, but he wished it were. He had never wanted to hurt Thomas; he had never meant to. But he couldn’t change the past. The only thing he had, the only thing they had, was the future. _And I almost lost that today._

Jimmy continued his inspection of the room, still fidgeting with the sheets. He was wrestling with guilt, crumbling with despair, spinning with confusion, and clinging to hope. He felt like his multitude of emotions were each armies, engaged in battle inside his body, with no one sure what side they were on. Not sure if there were sides, not sure if there was a battle, or if there was just chaos.

Jimmy wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had stopped talking when he heard Thomas’ bed frame creak. His eyes snapped down to Thomas. Thomas’ face was starting to twitch a little; it looked like wakefulness was entering his muscles. Somehow Jimmy had overlooked the possibility that he might need to be prepared for Thomas waking up while he was there.

But before there was time for panic to set in, Thomas’ eyes fluttered open. His face expressionless for a few moments before it was completely consumed in confusion, and possibly a trace of fleeting pleasure as he looked at his visitor.

“Am I in heaven?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. His voice was rough and broken sounding. Even in his groggy state, he realized the foolishness of his question. Even if he had been allowed into heaven, God wouldn’t have brought him this beautiful creature. And heaven wouldn’t feel this miserable.

“No, Thomas,” Jimmy said hesitantly, “you’re at Downton.” It seemed like a feeble first thing to say, and probably for Thomas, an especially disappointing first thing to hear. Jimmy held his breath waiting for Thomas to speak.

After a few moments of staring straight in front of himself, face blank, Thomas threw his head back, stretching out his long pale neck, his hair flopping onto his pillow in every direction. He laughed derisively.

“None of my plans ever work out the way I want them to,” Thomas said matter-of-factly. “So I shouldn’t be surprised this didn’t either,” his voice turning angry. His face was still turned to the ceiling, but Jimmy could see Thomas’ eyes burning and his lips taut.

Jimmy didn’t know what to say, he had never been in a situation like this before, but he knew he had to say something. Thomas sat very still, eyes fixed to the ceiling, blinking slowly and evenly. He appeared wholly absorbed in his own mind, as if Jimmy wasn’t there. After the quiet seemed to have carried on too long to allow for anymore contemplation, Jimmy said,

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I mean it. I’d miss you terribly otherwise,” Jimmy paused, reconsidering, “in fact, I have been missing you quite a bit.” This seemed to wake Thomas from his thoughts, an alertness sparked in his eyes.

“Thank you, Jimmy. I’ve missed you too,” Thomas said as he turned his head to look at Jimmy, a small but sincere smile appearing on Thomas’ face. Any anger had drained from Thomas’ voice, now it was simply quiet and weak. Jimmy was shaken by the way Thomas spoke. His friend had never sounded so defeated. Despite this, hearing Thomas say his name made Jimmy’s heart skip. He had missed his friend more than he realized. He gave Thomas a little smile in return.

Thomas took the moment to stare at Jimmy’s perfection. His hair shone in the lazy sunlight, which also cast delicate shadows across his features. _He hasn’t changed one bit, just as lovely as before_ , Thomas thought. Thomas was surprised to see Jimmy. So many times he had tried to make a plan with Jimmy to meet, but it never happened. For anyone else, Thomas would’ve held a grudge against the person for not giving him what he wanted, and he was disheartened by Jimmy’s seeming lack of interest in maintaining their friendship, but because it was Jimmy, he could only be terribly pleased and relieved to see his friend. There wasn’t another person in this world he’d rather wake up to, if he had to wake up. Thomas looked at Jimmy and tried to escape into his memories of his friend, looking around for bits and pieces of happiness to indulge himself in. The stolen moment gave him drops of happiness, but failed to quench his thirst, like it had failed many times before. As Thomas sighed, he felt the infinitesimal happiness dissipate, and his next breath filled him with dull sadness.

“So how has your job been? I know you said you got a job at a restaurant in London. Must be exciting,” Thomas said. He was looking at Jimmy warmly, or at least as warmly as he could. Jimmy thought his job was an odd topic of conversation in this situation, but it was what Thomas seemed to want to talk about, so Jimmy went along with it.

“It’s been satisfactory. It’s different from working here. You’re in the middle of nowhere at Downton. London has everything,” Jimmy paused, thinking.

“Do you like it better than here?” Thomas asked, looking up at Jimmy, a shade of desperation in his voice. Jimmy contemplated the question for a few moments before responding.

“No. It has its benefits, but it just doesn’t quite… feel right. I haven’t made a friend… a friend like you… while I’ve been there. I’m surrounded by people but I just haven’t found anyone I really… connect with, I guess. Do you understand what I mean, Thomas?” Jimmy asked.

“ I know exactly what you mean, Jimmy,” Thomas responded, looking away from Jimmy, frowning, but his voice was still warm. Jimmy felt guilt creep back up on him. He thought again about how things could’ve been different. Both he and Thomas had essentially lost their best friend the day Jimmy left. And neither had replaced the other. Following the guilt, came again Jimmy’s sadness and confusion. He still didn’t understand what had caused Thomas to do this, but he wasn’t about to ask. Not now at least. He’d find out eventually. He didn’t really know how Thomas was feeling right now either, always the expert at hiding his feelings. Well, not always, but he was doing exceptionally well right now. The weight of Jimmy’s sadness began pulling him down again.

Jimmy couldn’t keep his eyes off Thomas’ wrists. Thomas couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of them either. They were such a glaring reminder of reality, a reminder that ate away at Jimmy. _You could have lost him, you know. Remember when you said goodbye after you were sacked? Yeah, that could’ve been it, Jimmy. That might’ve been the last time_ \- Jimmy forced himself to stop his internal, berating lecture, but he had already pushed himself to the edge once more. All Jimmy wanted to do was start crying again, but he couldn’t do that, not now. It wouldn’t be right to do that in front of Thomas, so he just tried to take deep breaths and calm himself.

Thomas didn’t know how to feel. He’d expected to be gone. He hadn’t expected to wake up in his room staring into the eyes of the—Jimmy, nor staring at the long list of problems he had tried, but failed, to escape. His heart was racing but barely beating all at once. It made him sick. He was surprised at himself. He thought seeing Jimmy again, which he hadn’t expected to happen really, would’ve been happier. But instead, any happiness was quickly overshadowed by frustration, embarrassment, and exhaustion. He hated for Jimmy to see him like this. He still had his pride. It would’ve taken Thomas Barrow a few lifetimes to finally chip away at his pride. He started to question why he had said anything in his letter to Jimmy. _Why did you give him a hint? You should’ve known he would do something like come here. Well, not really. He wouldn’t come here when you had asked all those times. Anyways, what were you hoping for? That he’d come here and find out you were dead? How would that help anything?_

Thomas noticed the sunlight was beginning to disappear as the room grew darker and the shadows on Jimmy’s face deepened.

“Do you have a place to stay for the night?” Thomas asked. He thought if Jimmy was going to go to the village he should probably get started on his way. Also, he wanted some time to work through his situation before having to converse much with anyone else.

“I figured I’d just stay somewhere in the village,” Jimmy responded, as Thomas had expected he’d say.

“Well you should probably get started. It’ll be dark soon,” Thomas said, sounding weakly urgent.

“I guess you’re right,” Jimmy replied. His eyes darted around the room. He made no move to leave. Thomas could tell something was bothering Jimmy, something Jimmy was afraid to say.

“Something the matter, Jimmy?” Thomas asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“I wanted to come to back tomorrow, if that’s alright with you. I’ll have to catch a train, but I wanted to spend some more time with you before I have to go,” Jimmy said, worry filling his words. He was fidgeting and unable to look directly at Thomas.

“I’ll be here,” Thomas said with a small smile; he was happy he’d get to see Jimmy again. Jimmy sighed in relief, whatever it was that was worrying him seemed to have been resolved. Jimmy smiled slightly, looking at Thomas. He impulsively reached out his hand and quickly squeezed Thomas’. For the brief moment there hands had touched, Thomas could feel that Jimmy was shaking.

And with that Jimmy stood, making the chair scrape unpleasantly across the floor. He turned to leave and walked out the door without a backward glance because the tears were already streaming down his face. He tried to rush down the stairs and out of the house before anyone could see him. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, and he most certainly didn’t want anyone to see him in his current state of emotional distress.

Thomas had watched Jimmy practically run out of his room. An enormous weight settled down on Thomas, offering to crush him. He leaned his head back on his pillow, looking up at the ceiling again. _What just happened? What am I still doing here? Why did you bring Jimmy here?_ Thomas realized he was practically praying to God. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and accept that fate had given him another chance, but another chance at what? Deep down beneath all the misery Thomas felt, a flame of hope and happiness had been allowed to burn for just a moment when he looked at Jimmy. Oh Jimmy. His favorite Jimmy in the entire world, sitting there with him, looking like the beautiful angel that he always saw the blond man as. How badly Thomas wanted to freeze an image for eternity and look at Jimmy’s handsome face, listen to his voice, hear his laughter. As soon as that dream floated into his mind, it was pushed out by an old feeling of heartbreak that Thomas kept carefully stored away in the back of his mind. His heart still longed and broke for love of Jimmy and in that moment he had failed to put his defenses up. There was no stopping the flood that rushed his heart, mind, and entire body. He squeezed his eyes shut and slammed his fists down on the bed, letting out a yell of anger and desperation. When he opened his eyes, tears poured out down his face onto the crisp, white sheets, violent sobs shaking his body. When he had first seen Jimmy, he thought he was in heaven, but now he was more convinced he’d woken up in hell, condemned to an eternity of torture; suffering with the burden of unintentional tantalization from the person he wanted more than anything that either life or death could offer him.


	4. Resistance

The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he walked away from the house. The harmonic sounds of evening: the chirps of insects and birds and the rustle of leaves in a slight breeze were interrupted by Jimmy’s uneven, chaotic sobbing. It was almost insulting that the evening could be so serene and content on a day like this. As if nothing had happened. And truly, to the rest of the world, nothing had. But to Jimmy’s world, something devastating had happened. He kept raking his hands across his face, trying to dam up his tears, but they refused to cease.

He looked up at the sky, it was a clear night, and the stars shone brightly; but the water in his eyes smeared the picture of dotted stars into fuzzy, pulsing balls of light. He tried to calm himself with slow deep breaths, letting the tranquil air pacify his mind and dry his eyes. _It’s going to be ok,_ he told himself while he took a breath. _He’s going to be alright._ After a large sigh, he dropped his shoulders and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, picking up the speed of his walk towards the village. Jimmy tried to not focus on what he had just experienced, what he had just seen. It was too much. He had been thrown into one of the worst days of his life with little warning and little time to prepare. It almost didn’t seem real, like he must have just had a nightmare.

 

            Thomas heard the turning of the doorknob to his room, and he quickly swiped the tears away from his eyes. Baxter walked in, softly closed the door and slowly made her way to the chair beside Thomas’ bed. She could see that his eyes were swollen even though there was no evidence of tears. As she sat down next to Thomas, the chair creaked gently. A sympathetic expression spread across her face as she reached out to give Thomas’ hand a pat.

            “Don’t pity me,” Thomas snapped as he stared down at his lap. He tried to keep his eyes downcast, but he kept shooting glances at Baxter.

            “Don’t pretend like you actually care,” he said, the bite gone from his voice, but subtle contempt still lingered.

            “I do care, Thomas,” Baxter said concernedly. She tilted her face down to try to get a better look at Thomas, but he jerked his face away from her gaze.

            “So that means it was you,” Thomas said, “that found me?” He swallowed and pushed some of his disheveled hair out of his face.

            “Andy helped me too,” Baxter explained, “and Mrs. Hughes.”

            “They did?” Thomas looked up at Baxter, a quizzical expression in his eyes.

“Well that’s nice of them,” he said tiredly, looking back down at his lap.

            “I know you don’t think there’s anyone who cares for you, but there are, Thomas,” Baxter said, leaning towards him, urgency in her voice, “and I see that Jimmy was just here.”

            “Don’t,” Thomas said, suddenly sounding angry. He looked up at Baxter, sparks flying across his bluish-gray eyes. She jolted upright, pressing her back against the chair, startled by his reaction to her bringing up Jimmy. She questioned whether she should continue, not wanting to further upset Thomas, but ultimately she decided it was more important to understand what was going on in Thomas’ mind than to avoid an uncomfortable topic.

            “I thought you’d be happy to see him. Why did he come?” Baxter asked. Thomas gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to talk right now, but Baxter was planted to the chair, showing no intentions of leaving before getting an answer.

            “I wrote him,” Thomas paused, opening his eyes and taking a breath, “I might have said something that prompted him to pay Downton a visit,” he said with odd formality. Baxter’s heart dropped, realizing what he meant, pressing her hands against her face. She was enormously disappointed in herself for not having seen this coming, for not having recognized it sooner; but it most certainly had been coming, made obvious by the fact that Thomas had written Jimmy in plenty of time for Jimmy to get there so soon after the incident. She wrung her hands, trying to decide what to say to the proud but defeated-looking man in front of her.

            “Thomas,” Baxter said quietly, trying to get his attention again, because his expression made him look like he was far away in another world, “I saw Jimmy as he was leaving… he looked quite upset,” she said as her brow crinkled. Thomas looked at her, his eyes wide.

            “He did?” he asked, sounding worried, but then a few moments later his face tightened and he looked away.

“He’s probably just shocked. He’ll be alright,” he said with a grimace, his voice stumbling over the last couple words.

            “Well,” Baxter took a moment to consider, “I think you mean more to him than you think, Thomas.”

            “You’re daft,” he said disparagingly, and much louder than he had been speaking; he looked down at his lap, scowling. Baxter only sighed. She could see the strangled hope that was twisted up in Thomas’ eyes; a hope to be cared for choked by a belief that that was impossible. However, Baxter saw the truth and could only hope that Thomas would come to recognize it soon enough. 

 

            He locked the door, padded over to the bed, and crawled in. Securely wrapped in a warm blanket, Jimmy relaxed enough to let thoughts of his day infiltrate his mind. Instead of becoming terribly distressed again, Jimmy thought about how grateful he was. Jimmy knew Thomas wasn’t one to have many friends or even allies, so that made the fact that someone had helped Thomas even more meaningful. Jimmy was still in the dark as to how all the recent events at the Abbey had taken place exactly and it stuffed his brain with questions. _Why did this happen? Who found him? When had they found him? How long had it been? Most importantly, what now?_

            It had hit Jimmy like a large wave in the ocean, crashing into him and knocking him down with how much he had missed Thomas. _We were such good mates when I had been at Downton._ It was true that Thomas had been withdrawn in his letters, and now Jimmy understood why to a certain extent. _Why didn’t you talk to me, Thomas? You could’ve told me anything._ However, Jimmy was also now acknowledging that he had likewise been withdrawn in his letters, but he had been holding back for a whole different reason than Thomas, a reason that he was reluctant to admit _._ At first glance, he could’ve blamed his lack of frequent and detailed letter writing on the fact that London life was dismal. He had no exciting adventures to report on. Despite being in the city, he was just as bored as if he was living in the country. _It was actually more fun at the Abbey with you._ The only difference was it was more crowded. _But only by people who don’t matter._ Work was still work, and that continued to take up the majority of his day. _Might as well be polishing bloody silver._ He was not enjoying the company of beautiful women, or drinking champagne. _I’d rather drink cheap liquor and play cards with you than all that truly._ Jimmy had realized that it didn’t matter if he was surrounded by places to go and things to do if there wasn’t anyone to do those things with. Of course, he had gotten to know some of his coworkers and would go out with them periodically, but he had no one to share knowing glances with, no one who could make him laugh in a dizzy sort of way, and no one who knew where all his buttons were and how to push them. _I had no one like you, Thomas._

Jimmy realized soon after leaving Downton that he had never gotten along with anyone the way he got along with Thomas in his entire life. This revelation, while mostly pleasant, had awakened sensations and feelings in him that Jimmy had been none too keen to explore and that was why he had decided to write less to Thomas. _It was terribly selfish of me to nearly abandon you because of me own problems._ He had thought that maybe if he distanced himself from his old friend that he would be able to fully start his new life in London. He’d be able to make friends, maybe even find himself a pretty girl, and enjoy all that London had to offer. _And a lot of good it did too, I only ever missed you more._ No matter what he did, thoughts of Thomas always filled his mind. Smoking, reminded him of card games with Thomas. Playing piano, reminded him of being in the servant’s hall with Thomas. Going out for drinks with acquaintances, reminded him of doing the same with Thomas. _And none of it felt right without you there._

            Jimmy then thought back to their letters. It had been painful when he had believed that Thomas had decided to finally give up on their friendship, but he thought it was best. It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? _No it wasn’t, not at all._ Before, Thomas had asked all the time if he and Jimmy might meet somewhere to visit. _I wanted to, truly, but I didn’t think it would help me, but now I regret it. I regret it terribly, Thomas. I’m sorry._ He was sad to lose his best friend- _in the entire world_ -, but he didn’t think he was quite sad- _I missed you so much_ \- enough to risk continuing having those new- _overwhelming, terrifying, but wonderful_ \- feelings. _But now, I’d risk anything- STOP IT- to have you- STOP IT- Thomas- STOP, STOP, Jimmy for God’s sake just stop it!_ Jimmy clutched at the pillow, his fingers threatening to rip it apart. _Just stop thinking, just stop thinking,_ Jimmy screamed in his head as he breathed heavily, pressing his body into the mattress. His could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his head, throughout his body, all the way to his fingertips. _Calm down, Kent, you’re probably just tired, or shocked, or something. Just go to sleep._ He inhaled through his nostrils and clamped his eyes shut. _Just stop thinking, you’re just tired, just stop thinking._ He chanted this to himself until it had pushed out every other thought. While the excuse he had given himself was weak, when coupled with his exhaustion, was enough to let him begin to go to sleep. He kept his thoughts from wandering by silently humming the tune of a new song he had just learned on piano last week. However, he couldn’t help but think he’d like to play it for Thomas if he got the chance.

 

            In the darkness of his room, with only the moon shining through, giving the room a cool glow, he laid, hands clasped, staring up at the ceiling. Thomas was remembering the touch of Jimmy’s hand against his own. How soft, and warm, and comforting it had felt, despite the shaking. How desperately Thomas wanted to hold Jimmy’s hand; it was the only thing he could think of that might allow him to get a grasp on reality.

            Thomas felt like he was trapped in a dark and heavy bubble. The dim of hopelessness and the weight of desolation were pressing down on him, suffocating him. It was like he couldn’t breath, couldn’t think; his thoughts evaporated in slow motion.

            Thomas gave up trying to reflect on this day. He was too stunned at seeing Jimmy and talking to him had sapped all his energy, what little energy he might have had. Talking to Baxter hadn’t helped either. He couldn’t decide how he felt; not now at least, he was too exhausted.

Thomas closed his weary eyelids and slumped into his mattress, releasing the tension from his muscles. He let his head roll to the side, feeling the softness of his pillow against his cheek. The thought of seeing Jimmy tomorrow brought Thomas a stew of emotions, but the feeling that won out above the rest was that of solace, and this he allowed to soothe him to sleep.


	5. Beginning

            _I can’t do this._ Jimmy was sitting on the edge of the bed, chin resting on the heel of his hand. It was early in the morning, the sun wasn’t even up yet, but Jimmy couldn’t sleep. He had been restless all night long, thoughts and visions of Thomas wading in and out of his dreams. Even now that he was awake, every time he closed his eyes he saw Thomas’ face, his eyes closed, head resting against a pillow; and Jimmy wanted to reach out and touch Thomas’ pale, smooth skin, to make those guarded gray eyes open up and look into his.

            _But I’m not like him,_ Jimmy told himself weakly, knowing it was pointless to continue trying to tell himself that. The thoughts he had been fighting for months had finally raged at full strength last night and Jimmy found he could now no longer resist them.

            _But for Christ’s sake, couldn’t I have avoided this a bit longer? This wasn’t exactly the best time to have this revelation. I’m supposed to be here for Thomas, not myself and my own feelings. A good friend I am._ He stood up and began pacing back and forth in the little room.

            _So how am I supposed to go see him now? I can’t. I’ll be too nervous to be of any help. Maybe I should just go back to London. I could send a note. Tell him I’m sorry but I couldn’t come—_

            “Gah!” Jimmy, in the darkness of the room, unable to see clearly, had just turned and walked straight into a dresser, stubbing his toe. He collapsed back onto the bed, holding his foot.

            _No. I can’t do that to him. I told him I’d come, and I will. I’ll just have to focus, that’s all._

            Jimmy stood, walked over to his case, and began to take some clothes out and get dressed for the day.

            The morning sunlight was starting to creep into the room, caressing it with gentle illumination. Jimmy was finishing dressing and going to smooth out his hair, inspecting himself in the mirror.

            He pattered around the room, collecting up his few belongings that he had brought with him and packed them away into his case. It was still early in the morning, before many people would be awake. However, the servants at the Abbey had to begin rising at ungodly hours anyway, so Jimmy thought he might as well be on his way.

            Jimmy strode down the road, his legs carrying him confidently, but the biting of his lip and incessant pushing of hair out of his face gave away the nerves he desperately wished he didn’t have.

            He approached the Abbey and made his way to the back door. He knocked impatiently and proceeded to pace back in forth, waiting for what seemed like hours for someone to answer.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a tall, slim young man with curly brown hair.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Thomas,” Jimmy stated as he stepped forwards to enter the building.

The young man barely had time to nod before Jimmy pushed past him and made his way down the hall. Jimmy could hear the bustling and muffled voices coming from the kitchen and servant’s hall, but he paid all of it no mind. However, one light, curious voice broke through the din.

“So you are here?” asked Anna from the doorway of the servant’s hall. Jimmy, without stopping his march toward the stairs, looked over his shoulder to see her standing there smiling.

“In the flesh,” he said, making his way to the stairs.

Once he reached them, with a heavy sigh, he began to trot up the stairwell. The sounds of his shoes against the steps filled his ears, creating a rhythm that seemed to sync with his heartbeat, each getting faster and faster as he climbed higher. By the time he reached the top he was slightly out of breath.

He turned down the hall, his fingers tapping nervously against his thighs and his stomach churning with anticipation as he walked towards Thomas’ room. Once he reached the door, he pursed his lips and knocked timidly.

“Come in,” said a tired voice from the other side of the door. Jimmy swallowed, slipped his fingers around the doorknob, and pushed the door open. Thomas was sitting up in bed, with a book open in his lap, looking weary and uninterested; but as soon as he saw that it was Jimmy coming in, his expression became expectant and almost relieved.

“Good morning, Jimmy,” Thomas said, setting the book onto the bedside table. Jimmy’s lips twitched, trying to say something but nothing would come out. He realized he was still standing in the doorway so he took a step inside, dropped his case on the floor, swung the door closed, and walked over to sit in the same chair by Thomas’ bed. Jimmy took a deep breath.

“Good morning, Thomas,” Jimmy replied, wondering if the ‘good’ was really appropriate.

“How are you feeling?” he asked awkwardly, biting his lip. Thomas’s eyelids drooped and he absentmindedly pinched the sheets beneath his fingers.

“People keep asking me that. How do you think I feel?” Thomas asked exasperatedly. Jimmy shrunk in his chair, feeling very small. He opened his mouth, trying to find something to say, but he couldn’t find any words.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound so harsh,” Thomas said.

“No. It’s fine. It was stupid of me to ask,” Jimmy said, clasping his hands together.

“But I don’t want to be harsh with you,” Thomas said under his breath and almost too fast for Jimmy to hear. He swallowed and then looked directly at Jimmy.

“But I’ll be doing alright soon enough I suppose. At least that’s what I’m told,” Thomas said, contempt filling every word, “And it’s the flu. That’s what they’re saying. I have the flu,” Thomas took a breath, “I’m sure they’d all appreciate it if you helped them keep up the lie. Few actually know.” Every word he spoke sounded like it pained him to say it. Jimmy simply nodded in understanding. He knew that what Thomas was going through was never acknowledged honestly, but it didn’t make dealing with it any easier. In fact, it made it harder and that drove a wedge of animosity into him.

“And I suppose as soon as I get over the… flu,” Thomas raised his eyebrows, “I’ll have to get packing and find a new job.” Jimmy squinted his eyes at Thomas in confusion.

“What do you mean? New job?” Jimmy asked, all the nervousness gone from his voice.

“I’m being made to leave, you see. Cutting back on staff. And I’m the first to go,” Thomas said. All the muscles of his ashen face tightened. Jimmy’s mouth dropped open and his face began to redden.

“They’re making you leave? But you’ve been here for, for, for so long! They can’t just tell you to go,” Jimmy said, anger and disbelief filling his voice.

“Well that’s just it. They can and they have,” Thomas said matter-of-factly.

“But all your years of service,” Jimmy shouted incredulously.

“All my years of making enemies,” Thomas corrected, cutting off Jimmy, “That’s probably how they see it. No one will be sad to see the back of me,” he said bitterly.

“I would be,” Jimmy blurted and the red of his face grew deeper, “I was,” he added in a small voice. Thomas looked at him curiously with a shadow of a smile.

“Well. That’s nice of you to say.” Thomas inhaled slowly, looking down at his lap.

“It’s not right, Thomas. It’s just not right,” Jimmy mumbled. He looked away from Thomas, shoving his hair out of his face. He looked like he was trying to compose his features, to mask whatever it was that was making him chew on his lip so ferociously.

“I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something,” Thomas said calmly, but his words lacked any conviction. Jimmy didn’t immediately respond to Thomas’ comment, but looked rather pensive, like he was trying to decide something. After a few moments of silence, Jimmy said,

“Uh, Thomas, have you already been looking for another job? And if you have, um… how has it been going?” Jimmy asked. Thomas sighed, reluctant to share his tale of failure.

            “I’ve looked. I’ve interviewed, but nothing has come of any of it,” Thomas paused, “I don’t know what I’m to do.” As he finished speaking, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

            “I’m sorry you haven’t had any luck yet, Thomas. What kind of positions have you applied for?”

            “Positions that combine the duties of a butler, a valet, a chauffeur, and probably five footmen, or something ridiculous like that,” Thomas scoffed.

            “That sounds like a lot of work,” Jimmy thought out loud. Thomas looked down, a few locks of dark hair falling across his face. Jimmy stared at Thomas for a few moments, noticing how the morning sunlight lit up Thomas’ dark hair, before he said seriously,

“Why not try for something other than service? You know that way of life is going out and a new way is coming in. And haven’t you always wanted to get out of service anyway?” He sounded like he had something specific in mind. Thomas took a long look at Jimmy before replying.

            “But this is all I’ve ever done. Service has been my life. I don’t see a way out now,” Thomas sighed hopelessly. Jimmy shifted in his chair and pushed a loose curl off his forehead while looking at Thomas with determination.

            “I’ve an idea. Why don’t you look for work in London? I think you’d like it. Change of scenery. It could be quite exciting, don’t you think?” Jimmy offered, sounding anxious.

            “But I thought you said you didn’t like London. Why would I want to be there?” Thomas asked confusedly. Jimmy paused for a moment, contemplating the question, before saying,

            “It’s not that I dislike it really. There’s just not much for me there.”

            “Then why would you suggest it? If there’s not much for you then there’s definitely not much for me,” Thomas said.

            “Well maybe you’d find it more appealing than I do,” Jimmy said, not sounding very confident.

            “I doubt that,” Thomas said, “you’ve always been more interested about the goings on in a city than I have ever been.”

            Jimmy scrunched up his face, seemingly unable to come up with a better reason. Thomas shifted on the bed, readjusting the blanket. He reached behind himself to move the pillow when Jimmy suddenly jumped up.

            “Can I help you with that? Here, let me please,” Jimmy said, not waiting for Thomas to answer before grabbing the pillow and shifting it around, whacking it a couple times.

            Thomas was befuddled, and stared up at Jimmy who looked more determined than he had ever seen him.

            When Jimmy stepped back and took his seat again, Thomas threw him a small, forced smile.

            “Thanks.”

            “My pleasure.”

            In truth, the pillow was more lopsided and unevenly squishy than it had been before, but Thomas didn’t mind. The comfort he got from Jimmy trying to help him was greater than any a pillow could ever provide.

            A silence settled between them, not wholly uncomfortable, but both of them were hoping the other would break it soon. It was Jimmy who spoke first.

            “You see, Thomas, I could fix your pillow everyday, if you like, if you lived in London,” Jimmy said awkwardly, with a weak chuckle. He looked down at the floor, chewing on his lip. Thomas wished he could laugh at Jimmy’s peculiar statement, but it only made his heart hurt. He was overwhelmed with the thought of what it would even be like to _see_ Jimmy every day, but he knew there was no way that would happen.

            “Well, Jimmy, that’s very generous of you, but I think I’d like to stay in this area. I have to leave Downton, but I don’t want to go too far. This place is the closest thing I’ve had to a home… and I don’t want to leave. London is just too far,” he said, sounding disheartened.

            “Come on, Thomas. Just consider it. Please,” begged Jimmy.

            “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Thomas said plainly.

            “But it is. What’s wrong with my idea? Who knows what kind of job you could get? There’s plenty of hotels or restaurants, or, or, you could go back to that medical stuff you were interested in for awhile,” Jimmy offered.

            “How do you know I was interested in medicine?” Thomas asked.

            “You told me once while we were playing cards,” Jimmy said, sounding as if it was obvious that he would remember details about Thomas’ life that he had learned when they played cards, and truthfully on nights when they hadn’t had too much to drink, he really did remember all the stories Thomas told him.

            “I’m surprised you remembered,” Thomas said. Jimmy smiled.

            “So what do you say? Won’t you at least try?” Jimmy said, more beseechingly than he would’ve liked.

            “I doubt anything would come of it,” Thomas said.

            “So that would stop you from trying?” Jimmy asked. Thomas shrugged.

            “I still don’t see the reason for me to go to London. I’ll find something around here,” Thomas said. Jimmy swallowed and let out a long sigh before speaking.

            “The reason you should come to London, Thomas… is… is me,” Jimmy said, a light blush blooming in his cheeks, “What I mean is, wouldn’t it be nice to see each other more often? We could spend evenings together again at pubs or playing cards in my flat. Wouldn’t it be fun?” Jimmy asked, giddiness in his voice.

            “But if you really wanted to see me then why didn’t you ever want to meet or visit like I kept asking you?” Thomas asked, sounding hurt and confused. Before Jimmy had time to answer there was a gentle knocking at the door.

            “Come in,” said Thomas. The door creaked open and Baxter walked in, carrying a breakfast tray.

            “I’ve brought you some breakfast, Thomas. Good morning, Jimmy,” Baxter warmly nodded to Jimmy and then set the tray down on Thomas’ lap. She smiled affectionately at Thomas, who only glanced at her before looking down at the tray. Baxter turned to Jimmy and asked,

            “Would you like something, Jimmy?”

            “No, thank you,” Jimmy said, sounding anxious for her to leave. Baxter smiled at him and turned toward the door. As soon as he heard it click, Jimmy stood and plopped himself down on the edge of the bed, facing Thomas. Thomas looked startled at Jimmy’s proximity but said nothing about it.

“I’m not too hungry, would you like some of this?” Thomas asked instead.

“No thanks, not terribly hungry,” Jimmy said as a growl escaped his stomach. Thomas raised his eyebrows at Jimmy and handed him the spoon,

“Go ahead.” Jimmy took the spoon and dipped it down into the bowl of porridge, and brought the warm food to his lips, eating it hungrily. Jimmy reached out and scooped up some more. As he was about to bring it to his lips, he asked,

“Wouldn’t you like some? You look like you could use some food.”

“No thanks. Like I said, I’m not very hungry,” Thomas mumbled. Jimmy scrunched up his eyes, looking at Thomas before he blew on the dollop of porridge to get rid of some of the steam coming off it. Then he extended his arm, holding the spoon in front of Thomas’ mouth.

“But I’m not hungry,” Thomas protested.

“Please,” Jimmy said. He looked into Thomas’ eyes and sat perfectly still, keeping his arm lifted in front of Thomas.

“Fine,” Thomas huffed, not sounding half as unhappy as he would’ve liked to. He opened his mouth and allowed Jimmy to slide the spoon in. Jimmy looked pleased as Thomas swallowed the bite. He brought another spoonful to his own mouth which he inhaled as he began to notice how hungry he was, having skipped breakfast before coming to the Abbey. Just as Jimmy was bringing another bite to Thomas’ mouth, Thomas said,

“I can feed myself, thank you,” sounding slightly irritated, “We could just pass it back at forth,” he said more softly. Jimmy nodded and handed Thomas the spoon. He ate the porridge and then handed the spoon back to Jimmy. They continued passing it back and forth in silence, only interrupted by the clink of the metal spoon against the ceramic bowl as they neared finishing eating. Once they were done, Jimmy lifted the tray off of Thomas’ lap and set it on the floor.

Then Thomas remembered his unanswered question he had asked before Baxter had walked in.

“So Jimmy, why was it that you never wanted to see me?” Thomas asked, pursing his lips, trying to contain his disappointment. Jimmy let out a shaky sigh as he pushed a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and sat very still, meditating on what appeared to be something important. Thomas gazed at him without restraint, thankful that Jimmy’s eyes were closed and he could take in the sight of Jimmy. It was almost shocking that Jimmy was actually here. It had seemed like he may have never seen Jimmy again, but here he was, sitting uncomfortably close.

“I just couldn’t. Not back then. And I’m sorry, I truly am, Thomas. It was selfish of me,” Jimmy said sincerely. Thomas’ confusion showed clearly on his face.

“What do you mean? You were too busy?” Thomas guessed, picturing Jimmy dancing with pretty girls, laughing as he pulled them around the dance floor, having completely forgotten his poor old pal Thomas.

“No, Thomas. I mean I wasn’t ready—“ Jimmy abruptly stopped, redness filling his cheeks, “Never mind, uh, is there anything I can get for you? More water? Would you like me to read the paper, for old times sake?” Jimmy stammered, still blushing.

“Uh,” Thomas stared at Jimmy, looking bewildered, who looked like a nervous hallboy on his first day, “No thank you. What were you talking about before? What weren’t you ready for?”

“Now’s not the best time—“

“Tell me,” Thomas demanded, and then his features softened and his voice became quieter, “please.” Thomas looked up at Jimmy, his glassy gray eyes sending shivers up and down Jimmy’s spine. Suddenly, Jimmy could only focus on those eyes, on Thomas’ eyes, looking at him so longingly, and he decided that maybe now, although not the best time, maybe wasn’t the worst time either.

Thomas watched as Jimmy stared at him, a strange glint in his eyes. Before Thomas could comprehend what was going on, Jimmy lunged at him, lips crashing against his. Thomas couldn’t breathe, his heart smashing against his chest like it was trying to escape. As quickly as the kiss had begun it ended, Jimmy leaning back looking at Thomas, biting his lip.

            “What?” Thomas said, voice barely audible and shaking. Jimmy didn’t say anything, but instead reached out and took hold of Thomas’ scarred hand, which was missing its glove.

            “Why did you do that?” Thomas asked, trying to convince himself that Jimmy must’ve kissed him out of pity or possibly even guilt. He figured Jimmy must feel sorry for him, living an exciting life in London while he tried to end his abysmal one. Maybe that kiss was meant to make up for the sorry excuses for letters Jimmy sent every now and then. But whatever the reason, he wouldn’t allow himself to think it was because Jimmy wanted to of his own volition.

            “You know why,” Jimmy said, now pressing his forehead against Thomas’. While Thomas immediately recognized his own words and what they had meant when he said them, Jimmy seemed not to notice the connection.

            “No, Jimmy, I don’t,” Thomas confessed, his heart pounding faster in his chest, feeling like he might burst and implode all at once; Jimmy couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like he was saying. Suddenly, Jimmy gasped, realization flooding his features as a smile broke out on his face. Jimmy lightly brushed his nose against Thomas’ while he gave the ungloved hand a firm squeeze. He licked his lips before he whispered in that deep, mesmerizing voice that had always made Thomas melt,

            “Yes, Thomas, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Before Thomas had time to digest Jimmy’s words, Jimmy was kissing him again, softly and sweetly. Thomas was frozen, trying to get a handle on what was going on, not believing this wouldn’t turn into one of his many nightmares in just a few seconds.

When Thomas didn’t kiss him back, Jimmy sat back again, a look of disappointment and worry painted across his face.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know that I’ve been wrong to you in the past. But please, Thomas, give me a chance. Just one more. I promise I won’t mess it up this time,” Jimmy pleaded, his beautiful eyes boring into Thomas, who looked away, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Jimmy.

            “You have nothing to apologize for, but I don’t know what you want, Jimmy,” Thomas whispered. Jimmy moved closer to Thomas.

            “Yes you do,” Jimmy said, raising his right hand to caress Thomas’ cheek, “But if you’re saying you want me to stop, I will, because I don’t want to hurt you, not ever again,” Jimmy’s voice shook as he spoke and he was sure that Thomas would be able to feel his rapid pulse through his hand.

            “I just can’t believe this,” Thomas breathed, as he seemed to involuntarily press his face into Jimmy’s hand.

            “But you do want this, don’t you?” Jimmy asked, sounding worried.

            “Please, Thomas. Come with me to London.” Thomas then looked back up at Jimmy.

            “Do you really want me there?” Thomas asked, his voice fragile, as if the wind could sweep it away in one gust _._

“Well I certainly don’t want you here, or anywhere else for that matter,” Jimmy paused, “The only place I want you is with me.”

“But it won’t be the same. I’m not the same,” Thomas croaked out, breaking eye contact again.

“And neither am I, Thomas. Before I was a fool. Now I’m still a fool, but I’m a fool that’s in love with you,” Jimmy said firmly and tenderly.

“You’re a fool for being… in love with me,” Thomas hesitantly said the words, shocked at the sound of them. At that, Jimmy frowned and moved closer to Thomas.

“No I’m not. And whatever it is that’ll be different, whatever it is that you need of me, Thomas, I’m here for you,” Jimmy said, his heart palpitating, unused to being so demonstrative, “And I’m never leaving you again if you let me.”

Raising his head up again, Thomas saw the way Jimmy was looking at him, adoration and devotion in his eyes. No one had ever looked at him like that before and it brought forth foreign sensations in Thomas; feelings of being thought about, cared about, and maybe even loved.

“I never stopped loving you,” Thomas whispered. Jimmy hunched forwards, bringing his face close enough to Thomas’ that their lips almost brushed against each other.

“So does that mean, yes, you’ll come with me to London?” Jimmy asked, desperation mingled with hope in his voice. Jimmy’s eyes were warm like the sun, shining down on Thomas’, which stared back at him looking as if they had been trapped in cold water, under a thick sheet of ice, where sunlight couldn’t reach. Now though, the ice was beginning to melt, to allow a spark, a life that had been hidden and frozen, to peek out, to see the sun once more, to begin living again.

“Do you really think I’d say no now, Jimmy?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy’s lips twitched into a hesitant smile as he breathed, “Thomas” and a sigh of relief. Then Jimmy felt warm, strong arms embracing him around his waist and he couldn’t help but admit to himself how long he had wanted to be held in Thomas’ arms. The hand that was still holding Thomas’ face slipped down onto the pale, smooth neck and Jimmy laid his other hand against Thomas’ chest. He could feel how fast Thomas’ heartbeat was, and he was sure his heart was beating just as fast. Jimmy smiled and decided to try for another kiss, closing the tiny gap between their lips. And this time, Thomas kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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